


Better Man

by havvkeyes



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Kidnapping, Language Kink, Smut, Violence, mentions of rape and sexual assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havvkeyes/pseuds/havvkeyes
Summary: You've only been at SVU for a week when you first meet ADA Rafael Barba. Little did you know that the sharp-witted prosecutor could be so readily undone by a little bit of compassion.





	1. See You In Court

It's late, you think to yourself, struggling to find the motivation to haul yourself into bed. You finish off the last of your glass of wine before finally making the trek from the couch to your room. The alarm is going to come far too soon in the morning, and you're mentally kicking yourself for getting so caught up in some trashy dating reality show that you lost track of the time. Your arms feeling far too heavy, you finally slip into an oversized t-shirt from god-knows how long ago and crawl under the covers. Your bed feels more comfortable than usual, you think. You drift off before your mind can get too caught up in the day to come.

In what feels like only moments later, your phone rings. Shuffling for it on the nightstand, you finally grab it. The screen flickers to life, nearly blinding your sleepy eyes in the process. It's 6 am, you still have half an hour of sleep left! Grumbling, you answer: " _Your Last Name_."

"Oh good, you're up. Sorry to call this early, Noah woke me up nearly an hour ago. I wanted to see if you wanted to grab coffee before we head to work?" Olivia sounds exhausted on the other end. She's gonna need more than one cup, you think to yourself.

"Yeah, sure," you finally respond. "Meet you at the shop around the corner from the precinct in forty-five minutes?"

"Sure, see you then _Your First Name_ ," your sergeant hangs up quickly. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad across the cold floor to the bathroom. Turning the sink on, your hands cup under the stream so that you can splash your face. Getting ready happens in a blur; hair up in a ponytail, clothes on, teeth brushed. Badge, gun, wallet, cell phone: check. Your glad that you're at least getting a cup of coffee out of being woken up before your alarm and some one-on-one time with your new boss can't hurt either. You grab your keys and head out, double-checking that you locked your door behind you.

\---

"Over here, _Your Name_ ," Olivia calls to you from a small table next to the front window. She's already nursing a cappuccino, the fluffy foam reminding you of the bed you left far too soon. You make your way over, smiling at her as you lay your jacket across the back of the chair.

"I'll be right back!" She nods as you make your way to the counter. "Iced coffee, please. Oh, and could I have that chocolate croissant too?" You ask, a little too much pep in your voice for this hour. Your sweet tooth is getting the better of you, but breakfast is the most important meal, right? The barista wordlessly prepares your order and makes your change. You mumble a thank you before heading back towards Olivia. She's not paying attention, though, her eyes are darting back and forth as she reads something on her phone. You sit down quietly, sipping away at your much-needed caffeine. Part of you wants to break Olivia's concentration to ask her what she's looking at, but the other part of you knows better than to interrupt.

Some moments later, after you've already made a dent in your croissant, Olivia seems to remember that she has company. "Sorry," she chuckles. "I got an email from Noah's doctor, just wanted to make sure everything's alright." You smile at her to try to ease some of the tension on her face. Her shoulders seem to relax a little at the gesture.

"How is he doing?"

"He's great, just a bundle of pure light and joy." Olivia's beaming as she tells you about Noah's favorite stories and toys. You politely nod and laugh. She seems so much less intimidating when she's away from the squad room, you think to yourself. As the conversation dies down, you two enjoy the silence for long enough to finish off your drinks. A whimper almost escapes your lips when you realize you're out of coffee and still tired, but before you can think seriously about buying another one Olivia catches your attention.

"So how are you liking it at SVU?" She asks, her face seeming a lot more concerned than it did a few minutes ago. She's resting her chin on her hand, eyes not breaking contact. Her mouth is curved up in a sympathetic half smile. You had only been there for a week, after all. Everything was new and intimidating to you.

"It's certainly unlike any other job I've had before," you concede. This earns you a laugh from the sergeant. "It's good, meaningful work, though. It makes me feel like I'm really helping. People in these situations need compassion and someone to be in their corner, I'm happy that I can be that person for them." Olivia seems to be pleased with your answer. She opens her mouth to respond, but her attention is suddenly drawn away when the door opens.

In walks a man who certainly looks overdressed for this coffee chain. His light gray suit looks expensive, neatly tailored to fit his frame. A powder-blue silk pocket square peeks out of his jacket, his stripped tie and shirt clearly coordinated to match. You're taken aback by the appearance of this man and you wonder how Olivia knows him. Both you and Olivia watch silently as he quickly walks up to the counter. You can't hear his order, but judging by the amount of bills he throws at the cashier, you assume he's added an extra shot or two of espresso to his drink. A caffeine lover, a man after my own heart, you muse to yourself. In your distracted thoughts, you somehow missed that the man was now suddenly standing before you.

"Counselor," Olivia greets him with a small smile and offers the other empty chair. The mystery lawyer nods curtly and takes a big gulp of his coffee before sitting down.

"Always good to see you outside of work, Olivia," the man chuckles. You stare a little too helplessly at your sergeant, waiting for someone to introduce him. He seems to suddenly realize that you're sitting there.

"Rafael Barba," he says, offering a hand for you to shake. You grab on and return in kind, a blush rising to your cheeks before you even process what's going on. You notice that he hangs onto your hand a beat longer than you expected him to, his thumb ever so lightly tracing your wrist.

"Barba here is Assistant District Attorney. He's gonna be one of your best friends on the job soon enough," Olivia smirks a little too much when she says 'best friends.' Barba notices, shooting her a quick glare.

"And you are?" He inquires, and you suddenly realize that you're still sitting there wordlessly, a little too focused on him.

"Detective _Your First and Last Name_. I just started at SVU earlier this week."

"Mucho gusto," he slips into Spanish seemingly without realizing it. Your curious stare seems to be enough to remind him. "Sorry, pleased to meet you. Clearly, I need my coffee," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes before turning them back on Olivia. "I was up most of the night preparing for your fraternity rape case, Liv." Olivia nods at him, and you wonder how close they are, given that he's using a nickname. Before you have time to ask, however, Olivia's phone rings.

"Benson," she answers, pausing to let the caller speak. "Okay, I'm just around the corner, Rollins. I'll be there in five." She hangs up without another word to Rollins. "Sorry, Barba. We've got to run, Rollins thinks she found some more evidence in those boys' social media pages." Olivia looks at you, waiting for you so you can head to the precinct.

You stand up and go to follow Olivia, turning to say goodbye to the ADA. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Barba. I'll see you in court next week."

"The pleasure was all mine, Detective. And please, call me Rafael," he adds with a quick smirk. You turn away before he can see the blush that's reappearing on your cheeks, but out of the corner of your eye, you see Olivia grin the tiniest bit.

\---

It's your first day in court, and you wonder if it shows. You're fidgeting the tiniest bit in your seat next to Detective Rollins. You can't put your finger on why your nervous, this trial is for a case that was before your time at SVU. You don't have to testify. You're here in solidarity with your team and nothing more.

Amanda seems to sense your nerves, turning to you to offer a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, we've got enough on these idiots to put them away for a long time. Plus, Barba is one of the best."

The realization suddenly hits you, it's the ADA in the dark suit that's making you just the slightest bit on edge. He's facing away from you, pouring over the notes that are strewn across his table. He seems so intensely engrossed in it all, even from far away.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Barker," the bailiff booms as a stern looking man enters the room. His robes sweep after him as he briskly takes his place in front of the courtroom. He looks over his glasses at Barba before turning his focus to the two defendants who seem to be quaking in their boots. They couldn't be more than twenty. Any sympathy you would have had is gone, though, the moment that you remember that these two kidnapped and assaulted a girl on her way home from the library. Craning your neck, you can see the girl now. She is polished, every blonde hair combed into place. Her face is without makeup, making the redness and puffiness from crying all the more evident. Her mother's arm is wrapped protectively around her.

Your attention is stolen away from the girl as Barba begins his opening argument. He paces quickly to the front of the courtroom before turning to face the jury. Cockiness and confidence seem to be overflowing from him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the two defendants here before you today are accused of a heinous crime. On the night of March 12, Macy Williams was on her way home from a long night of studying for her organic chemistry exam at the campus library. It was well past midnight when she walked past the Beta Omega Rho fraternity house, where she was held against her will and brutalized for nearly five hours. The evidence presented in the case will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Mark Soussa and Peter Trent are guilty of the violent assault against Miss Williams." Barba's monolog continues, but you're distracted by the small, strangled noise that escapes Macy's lips. Her head is buried in her mother's shoulder now, but her mother catches your eye. You offer what you hope is a sympathetic and reassuring half-smile before once again getting lost in the legal ramblings of the Assistant District Attorney.

The court proceedings pass in a flash of witness and expert testimony. The doctor's testimony of the severity of Macy's injuries makes your stomach turn as she describes the tears, bruises and rib fractures that Macy survived in her assault. This was the dark side of SVU that you weren't quite used to yet. All of the suffering and pain felt by the victims, you sometimes wondered how Olivia had been on the job for as long as she had been. Sending these bastards to jail was a small reward, one you hoped would offer some form of closure to the victims.

Suddenly, it's time for the first defendant, Mark, to testify. Your eyes widen as he takes the stand. He suddenly looks a lot less scared, and a whole lot more arrogant, you think to yourself. It almost looks like he rolls his eyes as Barba begins his line of questioning.

"Mr. Soussa, can you tell me where you were on the night of March 12?"

"Yeah, me, Peter, and a couple of buddies were playing pool in the lounge," Mark answers smugly, like he already thinks he's won.

"I see, and did you or any of your friends see Miss Williams as she was walking home?" Barba's eyes are narrow as he glares at Mark.

The boy nods before answering. "Yeah, Peter thought she looked cold, so we offered for her to hang out with us for a little. She agreed and came inside."

"So she voluntarily went into your fraternity house, is that correct?"

"Yes." Mark looks straight at Macy, and you have half a mind to stand between them to shield her from any more of him.

"Can you explain this, then? Exhibit F, your Honor." Barba clicks a remote and suddenly pictures appear on the courtroom monitor. You wince as you see the red rope marks that are clear on Macy's wrists and ankles. This seems to throw even Mark for a loop briefly, but he regains his composure just as fast.

"After a few beers, well, she started getting a little, you know," Mark trails off, but Barba pounces on the opportunity.

"A little what, Mr. Soussa? What warranted the rope marks on her wrists and ankles?"

"Well, she had been all close and personal with Peter and me, but suddenly she wanted to go a little further. Girl was into getting tied up, so my friend and I gladly obliged." You want to punch him in the face, you decide. If only that wouldn't get you in trouble with IAB.

"So you admit that you and Mr. Trent tied Ms. Williams up and had consensual sex with her?"

"Yes," Mark answered, a little too confident.

"I see. If it was consensual sex, why post tweets like these the day after?" Barba clicks the remote again, changing the picture to a tweet from Mark's account. It reads: _When they scream no, it only makes me want them more._ There are hushed mumbles in the courtroom as the judge calls everyone to order. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter's head drop to his hands.

Barba continues with his barrage of questions of Mark and then Peter. Their defense attorney occasionally tries to object but is overruled nearly every time. Barba has them on the ropes and he knows it as he goes into his closing remarks. The jury leaves for deliberation, and you get up to stretch, suddenly feeling the ache brought on by sitting for so many hours. Amanda and Fin guide you to the hall just outside the courtroom, where they begin chatting about the case.

"After all my time at SVU, it still blows my mind that they try to play the rough consensual sex card," Fin muses, shaking his head in the general direction of Mark and Peter. You and Rollins nod in agreement, just in time for the ADA to join your group.

"Nice job up there, counselor," Rollins claps a hand on Barba's shoulder.

"Let's just hope the jury doesn't fall for the sob story of two twenty-somethings whose futures are ruined," Barba quips.

"I couldn't stand the way Mark stared at Macy," you offer. "He kept looking like he was gloating." The bitterness is a little too evident in your voice, and Barba notices.

"Don't worry, if all goes well, she'll never have to deal with those bastards ever again." You're a bit taken aback by the language coming from a lawyer, but you appreciate the reassurance nonetheless. The four of you make idle chitchat for a while before something catches Barba's attention. "Jury's back." You can't tell if he's nervous or glad that the jury is back after such a short time deliberating.

You, Fin, Amanda, and Barba all make your way back into the courtroom. After everyone is settled in their seats and hushed in anticipation, the judge finally asks for a verdict.

"We have your honor, on the count of rape in the first degree. We find the defendants, Mark Soussa and Peter Trent, guilty." The foreman goes on to read out guilty verdicts on charges of assault and unlawful imprisonment, and you've never felt quite so relieved in your life. Macy and her parents embrace at the news, and you hope that she'll find peace one day.

"The state of New York thanks you for your service. Court dismissed." With a stroke of his gavel, it's all over. In the frenzy you somehow lose your partners, forcing you to wait for the crowd to file out. You're nearly through the door when a hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around.

"Detective," Barba is smiling a cocky, victory smile at you.

"Congratulations on the win, counselor," you offer, returning his smirk with one of your own.

"Rafael," he corrects you. "And thank you. Speaking of, I was wondering, would you like to grab a victory drink with me?"


	2. Cheers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael gets flirty when he's tipsy.

His offer had caught you off guard. You hadn't expected that the ADA would want to celebrate his win with the newbie detective from SVU. Shouldn't he have more important things to do? Or other people to spend time with? You wonder.

"Detective?"

"Oh, sorry. I was thinking about the case," you lied half-heartedly. "Sure, I could use a drink." This made Rafael smile even more as he led you out of the courthouse and through the busy streets of Manhattan. It was dark out, but the city still bustled with a kind of life that never ceased to wow you. You and Rafael walked side by side for several blocks before stopping in front of a fairly upscale bar. He holds the door open for you, following after you quickly. If you didn't know better, you could have sworn that his hand brushed the small of your back ever so lightly to guide you. The two of you take your place at the bar, grabbing the only two remaining open chairs.

"What'll ya have?" The bartender asks, only looking at you for some reason. You open your mouth to answer, but Rafael beats you to the punch.

"Bourbon."

The bartender nods and turns away from the two of you, preparing your drinks. You almost want to call him out for ordering for you. The bartender unceremoniously places the two glasses in front of you. You try to contain the frown that's threatening to form on your lips. A glass of white wine had sounded so nice, but now here you were, seated next to the ADA, nursing a glass of bourbon instead.

"Cheers," Rafael proclaims, clinking his glass against yours. "May all the scum of the Earth be banished to Rikers."

"I'll drink to that," you chuckle. He downs his glass in one gulp. You try to mimic him, but your coughing fit gives you away. He doesn't seem to be all that bothered, though, and orders another round as quickly as he finished the first.

"So, Rafael," you begin, trying out his first name. "What made such an important ADA such as yourself, high off your victory, want to celebrate with the new SVU detective?"

He pauses for a moment, turning to look at you. His eyes are fully focused on you, and you're suddenly aware of how intense it is to be caught in his gaze. You feel your cheeks flush as you break the eye contact, suddenly becoming fascinated with your drink.

"There's something inherently less annoying about you than your colleagues," he tries, earning a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a snort from you.

"What, Carisi got on your nerves?" Your nerves seem to have vanished, and you find yourself easily falling into the rhythm of conversation. He seems to perk up at this as well, sensing the shift in tone.

"Carisi is a Chihuahua who thinks himself a Pit Bull." Yep, you're definitely snorting now. You're half embarrassed that you're laughing like this in front of Rafael, but his wide smile reassures you to keep on laughing. The lighting in the bar is subpar, but you can still make out a kind of softness in his features that you're not quite sure you had seen before. He adjusts in his seat, bumping your shoulder with his in the process.

"Sorry," automatically tumbles out of your lips. He's looking strangely at you now, and that sense of unease from earlier is threatening to bubble back to the surface.

"Detective, did you just apologize for something I did?" He almost can't believe it himself, his eyebrows are raised at you, and you almost want to apologize again for saying sorry in a silly situation.

"Call me _Your Name_. If I'm going to call you Rafael then you should use my first name too." In the moment, correcting him had seemed like a light way of moving on from your awkward apology.

"Fair enough, _Your Name_."

There's something about the way he says your name and the way he's looking at you that makes an involuntary shiver jump up your spine. Rafael seems to notice, and the skeptical look shifts to the more familiar smugness that you had seen on him in court.

"Chilly?" He jokes, nudging you with his elbow. "Take my jacket." It's not really an offer, you realize. He's already standing up to drape the long black coat across your shoulders. Your thank you gets caught in your throat when his hands linger on your shoulders for just a beat longer. You can feel his hot breath on the back of your neck and it's giving you goose bumps.

"Rafael?"

He doesn't answer you, at least not at first. He does, however, move back to his seat. He throws back the rest of his drink and slams the glass down on the bar a little too hard. The loud noise grabs the attention of the bartender, and he shoots you another look that leaves you just the tiniest bit unsettled.

"Let's get you home," he finally mumbles. He had tried to take another sip out of his glass, seemingly forgetting that it was empty.

"I'm only a few blocks away," you respond. You're not entirely sure if he's offering to walk you home or just wants to leave. The butterflies in your stomach are telling you that you really want it to be the former.

"I'll walk with you, it's late. You and I both know the kinds of people that are out at this hour."

You silently nod and stand up as he does. You could've sworn you thought he was at least a little tipsy, but he seems to be managing just fine. He throws some bills down onto the bar and waves goodnight at the bartender.

It's his turn to follow you, and he does, quietly. His silence is unnerving; this is the prosecutor with the sharp tongue and even sharper wit, who can make hardened criminal quake in their boots, and here he was, silent next to you.

"Everything alright, Rafael?" You've stopped walking. You're nearly at your apartment by this point, but leaving him at this moment just feels wrong. He just stares at you, still not speaking. You wonder if you've done something wrong, but suddenly his hand grabs for yours. 

"Everything's perfect, _Your Name_." A small smile darts across his face, and you can't help but return it. This time, he's the one who seems to shiver involuntarily. His hand is still holding yours, and you tug at him to resume walking. Another block in the cold air and suddenly you're in front of your apartment.

"This is me. Do you want to come inside? I have coffee, wine..." you trail off. The offer was made before you even had time to think. Did you seriously just invite a man you hardly know, let alone an important prosecutor that you work with, back to your apartment? He doesn't answer right away, and you're kicking yourself for being so dumb.

"I'd love to, but I have to get home. I'm due in court early tomorrow morning." He squeezes your hand, and you feel your stomach do flips. "Buenas Noches, _Your Name_."

"Goodnight, Rafael." You begin to take off his coat to give it back, but he shakes his head.

"Keep it. It means I'll have to see you again," he winks at you before finally letting go of your hand.

"I'd see you at work anyway, counselor," you tease. He rolls his eyes, but you can see the impish grin. "Maybe we can grab coffee sometime?" The hopeful tone in your voice is a little too obvious, and you hope he doesn't think you're too over-eager.

"Coffee and a beautiful woman? What more could I want?" That rosy blush is back on your cheeks, and you wonder if he can see it. "Give me your number, I'll call you so we can plan."

He hands over his phone and you enter your number in quickly. You repeat your goodnights before he finally heads off into the night. You watch him from your front stoop until he turns the corner. Still blushing, you fumble for your keys so you can finally get out of the cold. You push open your door and make your way over to the bed, still as comfy as it was when you left it. Too tired and distracted to get ready for bed, you simply remove the day's clothes before crawling under the covers. Your eyes close and you begin to drift, only to be startled by the buzzing of your phone on the wood of your nightstand. Who the hell calls this late?

Squinting to see the answer button, you finally manage to slide your thumb across the screen. " _Your Last Name_."

"How does tomorrow morning before I have to be in court sound?" For a minute you can't put your finger on the caller's identity. But then the night's events come flooding back, and you realize that Rafael is calling you, only mere moments after dropping you off.

"I thought you had to be in early?" The sleepiness in your voice is evident, and for a moment you almost want to say no to waking up earlier than you have to.

"I do, but I have a feeling you might be my good luck charm."

"Since when do you need luck, Rafael?" The flirting is coming a little too easily, you muse. You hear him chuckle on the other end.

"Any extra help I can get is always appreciated. How does seven at that same cafe I saw you at with Olivia sound?"

"I'll see you then. Goodnight, sweet dreams."

"Dulces sueños, _Your Name_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such a positive response so far!


	3. On The Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael is hot and cold. Meanwhile, your first real case with SVU leads you to a string of cold ones.

You can't remember the last time you were nervous about getting coffee with someone. High school? College? But here you were, knots in your stomach, as you push open the door to the cafe. You try to focus on the satisfying sound your boots make as you click across the wood floor over to Rafael. His back is to you, but you can still tell that he's immaculately dressed as always. His hair is smoothed down with so much gel that it catches the light; and it actually reminds you of Carisi for a moment. Rafael's fingers drum the table in front of him to a beat you can't quite recognize. You see him lift his arm to check his watch. You're not late, in fact, you're five minutes early. Finally at his table, you tap him on the shoulder to break his concentration.

"Hey stranger," you greet, taking your seat opposite him. He smiles briefly at you before handing you an iced coffee and a warm croissant. You stare down at them in bewilderment.

"I remembered your order from last time. I hope you don't mind." Your thank you gets dismissed by a wave of his hand. He takes a sip of his own coffee. His arms can't seem to stay still; they adjust the buttons of his jacket, straighten his silk tie, and he checks his watch for a second time in two minutes. Could he be nervous as well? It couldn't be so, you decide. He must just be anxious to get to work. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments. His attention is fully on his phone, and you watch as he scrolls and taps at the screen. You keep yourself occupied by alternating between sips of coffee and bites of chocolate croissant.

"Am I keeping you?" You finally muster the courage to ask him. He looks at you with wide eyes, almost as if he forgot you were there. "I know you're busy. I should probably get to work soon myself." You're not looking at him anymore, embarrassment creeping its way onto your cheeks. What were you thinking? A man like Rafael Barba didn't have time for you. He was probably just trying to be nice the other night, or it was just him being drunk. 

"I'm sorry." He sounds sincere. "I've been told I'm particularly rude in the mornings." He frowns and creases form on his forehead in response. The phone in his hand buzzes and his frown becomes a full on scowl. "I do actually have to go, I'm afraid. The judge wants to meet with me and the defense before my trial today." You nod and offer him a small, understanding smile. You hope you're disgusting your disappointment well enough as you watch him stand up and smooth out his outfit. The green in his tie makes his eyes stand out even more, you notice. You catch yourself thinking about how handsome he looks, and you try to shove the feelings down. No point in getting your hopes up. 

You're apparently not as good at hiding things from him as you hoped. He grabs for your hand and places a delicate kiss to it. "I'm sorry _._ Raincheck?"

"Of course," you nod. His grip pulls you so that you're standing as well. He squeezes your hand quickly before turning to leave. 

"Good luck at work, Detective." 

\---

"Hey,  _Your Name,_ you there?" Carisi looks concerned as he tries to get your attention from the driver's seat. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other firmly on your shoulder. You had been lost in your thoughts about this morning. 

"Yeah, sorry," you answer. Carisi smiled and turned his attention back to the road, occasionally singing along to whatever song came on the radio. You were always bad about knowing the tune, but you laughed whenever Carisi's voice cracked. The two of you were on your way to a crime scene at an upscale apartment building. Apparently the body of a teenage girl had been found by the building's doorman. This was your first official case. Carisi makes idle chitchat about his sister and asks about your family. You respond in kind, happy to have found a friend at the office in your partner. Carisi radiates warmth, and you almost snort with laughter when you remember Rafael's crack about him being more like a Chihuahua than a Pit Bull; it's undeniably accurate. 

"We're here." Carisi pulls the car to the side of the road, easily mastering the parallel parking required on the busy streets. It's a skill you're envious of. Wrapping your coat a little tighter around yourself, you follow your partner into the building. 

"I'll talk to the doorman, you head up to the crime scene." Carisi doesn't wait for your response, heading off towards the large front desk and the middle-aged man standing behind it. You catch a glimpse of a uniformed officer out of the corner of your eye, and you follow him to the crime scene. 

The first thing that hits you is the smell. The metallic scent of blood is overpowering, so much so that it fills the entire hallway. The officer leads you to the open door of apartment 4B. CSU is already inside, working methodically to process the crime scene. The body of a young girl is placed in the center of the wool carpet. Her arms folded across her chest. Her long brunette hair pools around her head. Her eyes are wide open and her lifeless stare is pointed upwards at the ceiling. She's looking at something, you notice as you enter the scene. Painted in what you assume is the victim's blood is a cross. 

"Detective, we found something!" The tech's voice breaks your focus. You make your way over to the man crouched next to the girl and he hands you an evidence bag. "It was stuffed inside her mouth."

You turn the object over in your fingers. It's a rosary, an old one by look of the wear on the beads. A rosary and a cross, two obviously religious symbols found at a heinous crime scene. Beyond the heavy religious symbolism, something else seems odd. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Dashing back towards the lobby, you dial your sergeant. 

\--- 

"Good catch,  _Your Name._ " Fin pats you on the back as he enters the squad room. "I caught those first two cases back in 2005. Both girls were young, brunette, sexually assaulted, murdered, and found posed. Rosaries and crosses were also found. We thought they were linked at the time. This must be the same guy." 

"Any word on the identity of our victim?" Olivia tosses old case folders onto the table in front of you. They're marked 'Ella Mayor' and 'Rebecca Johnson.'  

"No hits yet, but we'll keep trying," Carisi calls from across the room, balancing a pen and yellow legal pad in one hand while holding the phone up against his ear. 

"So this guy's a serial with a decade-long cooling off period?" You stare down at the files, baffled. The folders are worn and faded and look like they haven't been touched in many years. Something isn't sitting right in your stomach, a ritualistic serial killer like this guy wouldn't just stop. 

"Something had to have gotten in his way," Olivia mutters as she paces in front of the board. Crime scene photos decorate it like some kind of deranged collage. Your squad spends the better part of the next three hours pouring over old evidence and case files. Nothing. Finally, Olivia calls it. Her hand goes to the bridge of her nose. She pinches it in a combination of frustration and concentration. "Everyone go home, come back with fresh eyes in the morning." No one tries to argue with the sergeant. 

Amanda grabs her jacket, eyeing Carisi as she heads for the elevator. Fin stacks the files into some semblance of order and follows Olivia back into her office. You assume they're talking about the cold cases. You quickly grab your jacket from your desk chair, swinging it over your shoulders in one smooth motion. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you check your texts for the first time since getting back to the squad room. There are several unread messages from Rafael.

'Sorry I was a bit of an asshole this morning.'

'We're both busy, career-oriented people, but I can't stop thinking about you.'

'Can I make it up to you? Dinner?'

The last text was sent nearly an hour ago, and you wonder if the offer still stands. You're fingers go to quickly shoot off a reply, and in your concentration you miss the ding of the elevator door opening. You continue moving towards the elevator. Your eyes are so focused on your phone that you neglect to notice the man standing in front of you. You walk straight into him. Startled, you jump back, but his arms instinctively grab for you to hold you steady. 

"Easy there. It's just me." Rafael Barba stands before you, looking as surprised as you feel. He's still holding you steady. "I was hoping you were still here."

"Was just on my way out, actually. I just saw your texts." You hold up your phone as if you need to prove it to him. He finally lets go of you, his gloved hands falling back to his sides. He nods. You've sufficiently proven your case. 

"Care to join me, then?" They way he waggles his eyebrows at you, there's no way you can say no. 

"Is this a date, Rafael?" You ask, half-teasing, half-serious. 

"And if it is?" He challenges, that same jury-winning smirk adorning his face. 

"Sounds like prosecutorial misconduct. Fraternizing with the detectives who help make your cases." You wink at him and move into the elevator. 

"Please, I think I know the rules better than you, Detective." He shoots back, pressing the button for the lobby. "Besides, a little fun now and then is what life is all about."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took a bit longer to get this chapter up. I had a major bout of writer's block. I'm still not 100% happy with this chapter, but I hope it sets the stage for some major themes coming up later in the story.


	4. Quiet Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Eventually the two of you reposition yourself so your head rests on his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. Between lazy kisses, you think you catch him mumbling unfamiliar words, but the sudden tiredness makes it too difficult to focus."

“You have quite the appetite, Detective,” Rafael accuses, pointing his fork at you. Your eyes narrow back at him in response. Your mouth currently full of pasta, so you can’t fire a retort back at him as promptly as you like. You continue to glare at him as you finish your bite. His napkin is tucked into the collar of his blue button down shirt. He looks a bit ridiculous; the napkin looks like a child’s bib on him. You have to admit though, the bib-napkin makes ADA Rafael Barba finally look a little less put together and a little more like a normal person. After a few more chews and a slightly painful swallow, you prepare your defense. 

“Hey, I’ve been on the job all day. Cut me some slack. Plus, I’ll never say no to spaghetti.” To prove your point, you go for another forkful of your meal. He chuckles and grasps for his glass of wine, finishing it off surprisingly quick. The air between the two of you is much lighter than the one earlier this morning in the coffee shop. Rafael seems to have gotten over his morning grumpiness. You keep catching him smiling at you with his warm grin. 

Rafael grabs a small piece of bread from the basket and takes a hearty bite out of it. You find yourself getting lost in the hypnotic movement of his lips and teeth. Sure you loved carbs, but since when was a man eating bread erotic? 

“ _Your name_?” Rafael cocks his head at you. 

Shocked and embarrassed, you quickly mumble a sorry before bringing your napkin to your lips, hoping to cover the rising flush in your cheeks. 

“You’re cute when you blush, by the way.” This takes you completely off guard, leaving you speechless and your face even redder. “Don’t try to hide it,” he orders softly, moving the napkin in your hands away from your face. Before you have a chance to respond, the waiter places the check on the table, granting you a reprieve from Rafael’s sudden and intense gaze. You reach for the bill, but Rafael swats it away. He places a credit card inside before handing it back to the waiter with a nod. 

“Why can’t I pay?” It sounds more whiny than you intended it to. Rafael chuckles again. 

“Because, _Your Name_ , this is a date. My mother would murder me if she knew I let a beautiful woman pay on our first date.” Your breath catches in your chest. Beautiful? You had assumed this meal to simply be penance for his behavior earlier. Nothing more. Rafael watches your reaction carefully, trying to evaluate whether or not he overstepped. When the waiter returns with his card, Rafael swiftly returns it to his wallet. 

Silence. The mood is no longer as carefree as it was mere moments ago. Now the air felt alive, electric. Slowly, carefully, Rafael’s hand begins to cross the chasm that your table has suddenly become. His fingertips lightly trace the top of your hand. He won’t commit to fully taking it in his. Instead, he waits. Watches. 

Just like the night before, your body’s involuntary shiver at his touch betrays you. The delicate touch of his fingers makes your heart race. In a sudden wave of confidence, you interlace those fingers with yours. 

He had grabbed for your hand before but this felt more intimate. The gentle squeeze he gives you as he leads you out of the restaurant sends butterflies fluttering through your stomach.  
“Walk me home?” 

“It would be my pleasure,” Rafael replies. With a quick smile and a gentle tug, you begin to lead him in the direction of your apartment. The nighttime breeze fills your lungs. The feeling is welcomed. You feel alive. Rafael walks by your side, swinging your hands slightly as he moves. 

Distracted by your mind retracing the night, you fail to notice that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment. Biting your lower lip, you turn the idea of inviting him inside over in your head. Rafael continues to surprise you by beating you to the punch. 

“Can I take you up on the coffee you offered last night?” He runs his free hand through his dark hair. 

“It would be my pleasure,” you mimic his words from earlier. Finally letting go of his hand, you dig through your pockets to find your keys. Once your fingers meet metal, you grab them quickly and move to open the door. Forcing the old knob, you push your way inside. Rafael diligently follows you up four flights of stairs without complaint. The two of you pause at the landing of your apartment. Sliding the key into the lock, you glance back at the man behind you. Rafael isn’t looking at you, instead he’s lost in some email or text on his phone. 

With the door of your apartment open, you extend your arm outward. “After you.”

“Why thank you, Detective,” he teases. He enters, moving swiftly to the center of the living room. He eyes the dark couch, seemingly unsure whether or not he should sit down. You smile and tell him to sit down while you pad across your wooden floor into the kitchen. 

“How do ya take your coffee?” You call out to him, head buried in the cabinet as you search for your bag of coffee grounds. Finally seeing your prize, you smile when the aroma of the beans hits your nose. It reminds you of working in that campus coffee shop during college. Cops and coffee go well together, you think to yourself. You hum to yourself as you brew Rafael’s coffee using the pour-over brewer that had been a gift from your parents when you first moved to New York. Hypnotically pouring hot water in circles around the filter, you watch as the brown liquid streams into the pot underneath. 

“Sugar and milk, please?” Rafael fiddles with the tiny porcelain figurine of a golden retriever that adorns your coffee table. Turning the miniature dog over in his hands, he notices your initials and the year 2005 scribbled on the bottom. 

Finally satisfied with the brew, you pour out some of it into your favorite mug. It’s an old one, purple and covered with faded green polka dots. You had always favored it when you were younger and your mom had packed it up with you when she moved you off to college. A little piece of home. You splash in the milk and get lost in the swirls it makes. A spoonful of sugar thrown in and you're good to go. You carry the steaming mug out to Rafael. Your presence seems to have caught him by surprise. He quickly puts the figurine back down on the table and flashes you a nervous little smile reminiscent of a child caught playing with something he wasn't supposed to. 

“Thank you, _Your Name_.” 

“Of course, Rafael.” He takes the mug from you and wastes no time before taking a sip. He closes his eyes in contentment. While he’s occupied with his coffee, you pick up the dog figurine he was studying moments ago. “His name was Fletch,” you tell him, holding up the dog for him to notice. 

“Yours?” Rafael asks, his lips barely visible over the top of his mug. 

“Yeah. I begged and begged my parents for a dog and they finally caved. Fletch was my best friend, always going for runs with me and sleeping on my bed. One day, out of nowhere, he stopped walking. We rushed him to the vet, but there was nothing they could do. Apparently he had had an aggressive tumor that we had missed. He died the next day. He was only six, way too young to go.” The hot tears that fall on your cheeks catch you off guard. It had been a long time since you had taken the time to remember your old best friend. You close your eyes to fight off the other tears that are threatening to spill over. 

You hear the clink of the ceramic mug against the coffee table. Suddenly, his arms envelop you. He pulls you tight against his chest. Your head rests underneath his chin and he turns his head so he can place a light kiss into your hair. Despite his comfort, a few more tears escape your eyes. The two of you remain in that position for several more minutes after your whimpers have gone silent. He kisses your hair again before turning you around so you're sitting face to face. 

You stare at him, lips slightly parted, unsure of what to say. Your heart flutters. His hands now rest on either side of your legs. You wait for him to speak. Rafael chews on the inside of his cheek for several moments. Both of you are unsure of what to do next. Before you can stop yourself, you lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. You watch as Rafael’s eyes widen at the unexpected contact. 

He doesn't say anything. Turning your gaze downward, you attempt to hide your embarrassment. A finger curls underneath your chin to lift your head back up. Your eyes meet his green ones. It’s his turn to lean forward. He does so achingly slowly. Testing the waters. He’s afraid. 

When his lips finally brush yours, the warmth in your cheeks shoots throughout the rest of your body. You move your hands until they rest on his shoulders, feeling the smooth material of his shirt as you do. His hands cup your face gently, as if he’s afraid to break you. His thumbs brush your cheekbones and you lean into the touch. His tongue quickly traces your lower lip. 

You’re not sure how long the kiss lasts. When you do pull yourself away, Rafael attempts to follow after the lips that are suddenly missing from his. His eyes flutter open. They're full of an emotion you can’t quite recognize. 

“I…I didn’t cross a line, did I?” You’ve never heard Rafael Barba be unsure of something. You honestly weren’t sure he was capable of doubt, given the way he conducts himself both inside and outside of the courtroom. 

“No, Rafael.” Saying his name feels more intimate now, like a secret whispered only between the two of you. Your hand moves to the right side of his face, fingertips dancing lightly against his skin. 

Eventually the two of you reposition yourself so your head rests on his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. Between lazy kisses, you think you catch him mumbling unfamiliar words, but the sudden tiredness makes it too difficult to focus. 

You drift to sleep held steadfast against Rafael’s chest. 

Rafael remains awake, now regretting the mug of coffee you had so kindly brewed for him. He debates untangling himself from you so he can carry you off to bed and see himself out, but stops himself when he feels you nuzzle against his chest. Finally resigning himself to this position for the night, he places another kiss on the top of your head. 

“Dulces sueños, _Your Name_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing fluff :')


	5. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He leans forward to get a closer look, his right hand sliding along the desk until it finds yours. You shiver at the sensation. A deep chuckle rumbles from Rafael’s chest. He definitely noticed your reaction. You’re acutely aware of how close he is to you now. The tension between the two of you is setting your soul on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I'm so sorry it's been nearly a year since I've updated. I kinda lost my love for this story for a while. I started watching SVU again and my love for Rafael Barba has been reignited. 
> 
> If you want to see what I've been working on for the past few months, I've been writing on the Episode mobile app. My stories include "Goddess of Wolves" and "Wherever You Are."
> 
> I actually may wind up releasing a version of this story on Episode if I feel up to it (different character names, same premise to adhere to Episode's guidelines).

A week after the Jane Doe’s body had been found there were still no new leads. Olivia had you scanning over crime scene photos, desperate to find a single shred of new evidence. It was late, everyone except you and Rollins had gone home. Her face is glued to her desktop, scanning social media for any matches to Jane Doe’s description. The two of you sit quietly, each content to focus on your own work.

You take a swig of break room coffee. It tastes like it’s been sitting in the pot since yesterday, and if it weren't for the caffeine content you’d throw it all in the garbage. 

“Hey, Your Name, come take a look at this,” Rollins calls to you, her eyes not leaving the screen. “Isn’t that our crime scene?” She points to the picture of the crime scene exactly as you remember it: victim posed, blood everywhere. 

“Who posted it? That’s exactly as it was when I saw it. No way it was one of our guys, right?” 

“Doubtful. The photo was just posted to Twitter by someone with the screen name of ‘The_Redeemer.’ He captioned it with the name Isabel Lowry. That’s gotta be the name of our vic. I’ll search for her.” In a smattering of quick key strokes, Rollins has a webpage open with Isabel’s profile. “Here she is, Isabel Lowry, 18 years old, looks like she’s a freshman at NYU.” As Rollins points to the girl’s profile picture, it’s evident that she’s the Jane Doe from last week’s murder. 

“Freshman at NYU? How does a college girl go missing for a week without anyone reporting it?” You ask, unconsciously chewing on the inside of your cheek. Rollins shakes her head but doesn't offer a response. 

“I’ll call Liv. See if you can find anything else on this guy’s Twitter page.” She grabs her phone before pacing off to make the call to your sergeant. You take Rollins’ seat at the computer and trace the pathway of your likely killer. 

You hear footfall behind you and you assume its Rollins returning to join you, but instead a voice asks, “Find something?” Turning to find the source, you’re surprised to see Rafael standing there. He’s holding a briefcase, his coat draped over his arm. 

“Rafael,” you greet with a small smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was just dropping off some stuff for Olivia, but it looks like she’s gone home for the night.” He takes a few steps forward, now standing right behind you so he can glance over your shoulder at the computer screen. 

“Our killer got a bit cocky, decided to show off his work to Twitter. He was even kind enough to give us a name.”

“Oh, I love when they’re helpful,” Rafael smiles wryly. “It’s like they’re digging their own graves.” He leans forward to get a closer look, his right hand sliding along the desk until it finds yours. You shiver at the sensation. A deep chuckle rumbles from Rafael’s chest. He definitely noticed your reaction. You’re acutely aware of how close he is to you now. The tension between the two of you is setting your soul on fire. 

Ever since the night that the two of you fell asleep in your apartment, Rafael seems emboldened. His touch always lingers. He always stands close to you, as if he is shielding you. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Rollins’ startled voice shakes you from your daydreams. Equally startled, Rafael jerks his hand away from yours. He seemingly spins on a dime to face the other detective. 

“Not at all,” you stammer. You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. You feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You make eye contact with Rollins. She’s looking at you the same way she looks at someone in the interrogation room when she knows they're lying. All three of you stare at each other, eyes darting back and forth, searching for answers. 

Finally breaking the stiff silence between the three of you, Rollins clears her throat. “Liv said we’ll look into the social media accounts tomorrow. Noah’s sick so she can’t come in right now. I’m gonna head home.”

“Night, Rollins,” you offer with a small smile and wave. Rafael doesn’t say anything, but he gives Amanda a polite nod. You watch as she slips into the elevator. You barely register the sound of elevator doors closing before Rafael’s hands are on you. He grabs hold of your waist and lifts you up so you’re standing. For some strange reason, you’ve never realized how small you are compared to him. You had traded out your normal heeled boots for flats today, and your eyes barely met Rafael’s shoulders. The sudden change in position has left you breathless. Your head is spinning. Suddenly, all you can think about is the scent of Rafael’s cologne and how it’s overwhelming your senses and driving you wild. 

His hand slides underneath your chin, forcing your eyes upwards so that you’re looking at him. His green eyes are filled with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint. His arms encircle you even tighter, pulling you to him so that there’s barely any space between the two of you. 

“Rafael.” His name tumbles out of your lips, your voice barely above a whisper. He moves his right hand up to your face, his thumb sliding across your bottom lip. His tongue darts across the bottom of his lip seemingly unconsciously. You wonder if this feeling of intensity is similar to how a defendant feels on the stand when in Rafael’s crosshairs. 

The two of you stand frozen for what feels like hours. You’re appraising one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, after he heaves a heavy, frustrated sigh, his lips crash into yours. A breathless moan escapes your mouth. His tongue slips into your mouth as he deepens the kiss. One hand still wrapped around your waist, the other slides into your hair, grabbing hold. It’s as if he’s scared to let go. 

Effortlessly, he backs you up until you can feel your desk against your legs. Taking the hint, you sit on the top of your desk as Rafael positions himself in between your legs. You wrap them around him and pull him against you. He begins to trail kisses down your cheek, eventually finding his way to the pulse point of your neck. 

Time seems to pass by in a blur, and you’re not sure how long the two of you stand in the middle of your precinct, lost in the taste of each other. A sound reminiscent of a low growl rumbles in Rafael’s chest, and it’s enough of a shock to bring you back to reality. 

The harsh lights of the precinct feel like spotlights, focusing in on you and Rafael, caught in the middle of your passionate embrace. Despite his protests, you finally untangle yourself from him. You breathe in deeply, trying to slow your quickened heart rate. You wonder if he can hear it.

For a moment, Rafael almost looks hurt that you pulled away. As quickly as you noticed it, he regains his composure. He straightens his tie and adjusts the button on his jacket. You watch his delicate fingers as they work over his clothing. 

“I’ll go leave these files for Olivia.” Without another word, he turns and heads into your sergeant’s office. 

Now it’s your turn to feel hurt. You didn't mean anything by it other than the venue didn’t feel appropriate, but clearly that had been lost in the moment. 

You push yourself off your desk and adjust your disheveled clothing. You attempt to smooth out your tangled hair. With a sigh, you begin to gather your things. You neatly lay all the folders on your desk and place them in a neat pile. At least your desk is more organized than your chaotic thoughts. 

Rafael has reappeared beside you. He’s not looking at you, suddenly far too engrossed in something on his phone. You stand there, staring at him. Your nerves pool in the pit of your stomach, twisting it in knots. You want to apologize, or just to say anything really, but you’re voice is somehow lost. You’ve faced down hardened criminals, but can’t seem to bring yourself to face the man you’ve just hurt. 

“I have to go,” he says, still not looking up from his phone. 

“Oh, okay,” you mumble, the hurt rising in your chest. You look down at the floor, embarrassed. 

“Walk me out?” 

“Actually, I think I should stay here. I want to keep working.” Rafael eyes your coat in your hand and looks like he wants to argue with you. After a moment though, he resigns himself. 

“Alright. Good night, Your Name.” He doesn’t wait for your response, instead moving quickly to the elevator. The doors open and he steps inside. He briefly looks up at you, eyes full of hurt and confusion. But the slam of the elevator doors cut off the glance. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. How did that fall apart so fast?

With a heavy sigh, you pull out your chair and get back to work. 

—- 

“Your last name?” 

You jolt awake. You blink rapidly to clear your blurry vision. Your eyes finally land on Olivia, who’s standing over you with concern in her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you go home last night?”

You don’t answer, instead choosing to stand up and stretch. Despite the lack of alcohol in your system, you still somehow feel hungover. 

“Sorry Sergeant,” you finally manage. The embarrassment of last night comes surging back, compounding upon the new feeling of shame of being found asleep at the office by your boss. Olivia sighs, seeming to dismiss your apology. 

“Go home, get a few hours and then come back.” You look at her, perplexed. “That’s an order,” she confirms. 

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly gather your things and dart out of the precinct. 

—- 

A knock at the door shakes you from your nap. “Who the hell could that be?” You grumble to yourself, begrudgingly pulling yourself out of bed. You’re in nothing but a tank top and shorts. You debate throwing sweatpants on for a moment, but dismiss the thought. You’re sure it’s just someone with the wrong address. 

You pad across the floor, still groggy. You twist the cool metal of the door knob. An audible gasp escapes your lips when you notice that it’s Rafael, not a complete stranger, standing in your doorway. He’s dressed for work, his suit neatly pressed and not a single hair out of place. He shifts his weight uneasily. 

“Rafael?” You ask, stunned. 

“Olivia told me I could find you here,” he responds sheepishly. He looks around, as if he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. 

Your eyes go wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please, come in.” You gesture towards your couch. Rafael moves past you, careful to avoid bumping in to you. He takes a seat on the couch. He looks uncomfortable, almost like a schoolchild waiting to get called into the principal’s office. You take your place beside him, pulling your legs up onto the sofa and tucking them underneath you. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask nervously. Rafael chews on his lip absentmindedly. “Why aren’t you at work?” Rafael takes a deep breath. 

“I came to…apologize,” he admits sheepishly. Your eyes go wide. He offers a small smile before continuing. “I realize that I left hastily last night. That wasn’t right of me. I had no right to storm out like that. I was just…frustrated,” he ends the sentence on a half-hearted chuckle. “I felt rejected. My ego was bruised. And so I left.” Your jaw drops at his admission. Whatever you had been expecting, it wasn’t this. 

“Rafael—“ You begin. He raises his hand to stop you. 

“I want you to know that I respect you and care about you. I don’t want to push you or overstep any boundaries. So, whenever you’re ready,” he pauses. “If you ever want to, I’ll be waiting.” He looks at you earnestly, and your heart flutters at the glance. 

“Rafael, that’s not why I stopped you,” you say confidently. His expression becomes puzzled. You answer his next question before he can ever ask it; “I stopped you because we were in the middle of the precinct, where another cop could’ve walked in at any time.”

To your surprise, Rafael actually laughs. You find yourself chuckling along as you see the relief wash over his body. He flashes a toothy grin at you.

“I’m an idiot,” he finally acknowledges. You laugh even louder at that, your hand coming to rest on his thigh. 

“A cute one though,” you offer as you smile wryly at him. You could’ve sworn that he winks at you after that remark, but you’re not quite sure. 

Feeling a sudden rush of courage, you lean forward and plant a soft kiss on his lips in an attempt to reassure him. For a moment, he’s stunned. After a few seconds, he reciprocates the kiss. His hands gently slide up to cup your face. You deepen the kiss, suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of his hands and lips on you. A soft moan escapes from your lips, prompting Rafael to gently pull you into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. 

Rafael watches you hungrily, his hands now roaming your body. Your hands twist themselves in the fabric of his jacket in a desperate attempt to have him as close as possible. He nibbles gently on your lower lip, and you’re quickly realizing that you want nothing more than to have Rafael Barba naked in your bed. You can feel him; he wants you too.

Seemingly reading your mind, his hands slide underneath your ass and he lifts you up in one sweeping motion. You wrap your legs around him, securing yourself to him. He breaks the kiss momentarily to whisper in your ear, “These skimpy shorts and tank top are hot, but I think they’d look better on the floor.”

His husky tone sends shivers down your spine. 

Rafael walks towards the bed, his mouth now back on yours. He’s kissing you desperately, passionately, like he’s worried he’ll never get to again. In a moment of softness, Rafael gently lays you down on the bed. He pauses for a moment to take in the sight of you. His eyes roam over your entire body. They were full of a kind of tenderness that was completely foreign to you. No one has ever looked at you like that. 

After a beat, Rafael joins you on the bed. He climbs on top of you and resumes kissing you. He begins pulling at your shorts gently, wordlessly asking for permission. You mumble an affirmation, simultaneously pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Fingers fumble with buttons and zippers until all but his underwear is gone. He swiftly pulls off your shorts and tugs at your tank top, leaving you almost completely bare. 

He stops once again to admire you, and you find yourself attempting to cover yourself up out of embarrassment. 

“Stop,” he instructs gently, shaking his head. You begrudgingly oblige, your hands falling to your sides. Rafael pushes himself up, resting on his hands so he can get a better look at you. Any feeling of boldness you had is gone, and you find yourself focusing your gaze anywhere but the man in front of you. 

“Cariño,” he mumbles softly. His hands delicately trace your body, raising goosebumps wherever his fingers travel. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“But—“

“No, Your Name.” The way your name sounds on his tongue is like pure poetry, you decide. You’re feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of his words and gaze, so you kiss him. You kiss him in an attempt to distract him. 

Your ruse works. 

You pull him closer to you and slip your tongue inside his mouth. Your hands wander aimlessly down his body, admiring his physique. He holds you tighter and reciprocates your kiss, but it feels different than the previous ones. It’s sweeter, more emotional. You wonder what he would’ve said if you had let him continue the conversation. Oh well. 

You can feel how much he wants you, and you know how much you want him. Finally, you look at him with expectant eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Rafael, I’m sure.”


End file.
